


The Ballad of the Spider

by Mystery_Name



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Ballads, Creepy, Dark!Spider-Man, F/M, No Spoilers, Other, Redone, Riddles, Sad, Spider-Man is crazy, insane, more tags to be added as story progresses., odd poetic Spidey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Ever since the new patient was checked in, a rotted, twisted, sick energy seemed to blanket the entire building, just squeezing and squeezing till the occupants inside were struggling for air in its suffocating embrace. It lurked in the nooks and crannies, it spooked the demons in the closet and scared the monsters under the bed. It whispered a breathy laugh as cold as the wind above, as raw as the ocean currents, and as sharp as a knife in the heart. Something different was here, something not quite…human.~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Verse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fernandidilly_yo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernandidilly_yo/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since the new patient was checked in, a rotted, twisted, sick energy seemed to blanket the entire building, just squeezing and squeezing till the occupants inside were struggling for air in its suffocating embrace. It lurked in the nooks and crannies, it spooked the demons in the closet and scared the monsters under the bed. It whispered a breathy laugh as cold as the wind above, as raw as the ocean currents, and as sharp as a knife in the heart. Something different was here, something not quite…human.

**Gifted to my friend: Fernandidilly_Yo because she is just awesome and I happen to enjoy our talks.**

**And, uh, Fernandidilly_Yo, this fic might be weird, puzzling, and a tad bit, uh - INSANE! I ask that you don't judge me too harshly. XD**

**But hey, what are friends for?** **;)**

**Enjoy** ** >:)**

 

* * *

 

_ **August 18,** _

**Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane, far off from N.Y.C,**

**10:13 P.M**

It was a particularly cold early autumn night. The sky was bleak and frigid, devoid of any life all aside from a pale white moon that lightly frosted the ground in frothy white; the chilled wind howled in distress and shook the vulnerable, naked limbs of trees, and sent demonic shadows scratching and crawling along the ground. A light frost crept up silently on windows and water, etching its sharp crystals into the glass, cracking the surface into shrapnels of white and silver.

It was the kind of night that implicitly urged people to stay indoors. The kind that suggested that something sinister was lurking in the dark. The city of New York didn’t know what it was, but something evil tainted the air that night.  

But why tonight, of all nights? What unfortunate event could’ve occurred to bring upon such a rotten and twisted aura?

Well, past the bland lights of the city, away from the self-made glow of the buildings and several miles across the black rolling waves of the sea, one edifice held a secret. A secret that challenged the very safety and life of New York.

Below the dark water, wrapped tightly in folds of a raw, powerful ocean, was a building. It was made up completely of steel and concrete, reinforced with a thick metal alloy and titanium, designed to keep the crushing pressure of the water out; there were no windows, for there was nothing to see but an endless sea. The weak moon glimmered feebly down on the water surface, its rays not strong enough to make the tough descent toward the isolated edifice, and not confident enough to even try.

There was only one way in, also meaning there was only one way out - and the only way out was authentication from the man-on-top. Alongside that was an impeccable security system, intended for only the most deadly that the world had to offer. But to any who could make it past the unbreachable entrance, the words: _Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane_ was twisted and etched inside, there to greet anyone who happened to be as unfortunate enough to even approach the brooding building.

The institute was built by the Government as a place to house dangerous and mentally unstable criminals in need of some…rehabilitation. Its occupants were dark, twisted, and teetering past _mentally insane_ and plummeting right off the edge of _sick and demented_ \- its habitants certainly didn’t fail to leave the institute on its toes. In fact, just a month earlier, the staff received a new patient.

An “extra special” case.

Ravencroft hadn’t felt the same since.

Usually, an aura of black danger shadowed the place even on the sunniest of days. It left chills running down people’s spines and goosebumps spreading on their arms. The institute was no place for the weak-minded. But now…a new aura has settled in. Ever since the new patient was checked in, a rotted, twisted, sick energy seemed to blanket the entire building, just squeezing and squeezing till the occupants inside were struggling for air in its suffocating embrace. It lurked in the nooks and crannies, it spooked the demons in the closet and scared the monsters under the bed. It whispered a breathy laugh as cold as the wind above, as raw as the ocean currents, and as sharp as a knife in the heart. Something different was here, something not quite…human.

And that something was right down the hall.

It was a room that was almost constantly locked. There was _always_ a minimum of at least two guards posted in front of the door 24/7, _always_ armed and _always_ alert. The only way into the room was a clearance code known only by two people. One of which was a psychotherapist doctor, consistently accompanied by her two assistant nurses, who went in for 2 hours every two days. No one else, not even the guards assigned to watch the cell, has even seen the inside of the room.

Not that the guards lasted long. They always seemed to be switching out and requesting different jobs. No one liked guarding _that_ cell; rumors were spreading.

Tonight’s guards was a man named Hal and a woman named Kathy. It had been a particularly long day for both and they had just clocked into their night shift looking to a night of boredom and exhaustion.

“You new to this post?” Hal asked Kathy as soon as they had both settled in their drilled left-right positions. His helmet was pulled up, leaving his face bare.

Kathy gave him a half annoyed eye-roll under her helmet. She replied nonetheless, “Yeah, just got the assignment today, you?”

Hal nodded, “Same.” He shouldered his gun and tapped his leg thoughtfully. He could feel a cold breeze whistle through the corridors and suppressed a shiver when he felt an icy waft of air blow over his naked face. They needed to do something about the ventilation. He glanced at his co-worker through the corner of his eyes. She didn’t move and stared listlessly ahead, eyes forward and back straight.

He could barely make out a crop of blonde hair and sharp cheekbones beneath her helmet. Not bad, not bad at all…he had been needing a night out for a few days. Perhaps his chance for one was standing right in front of him.

He smirked. “You know,” he said, leaning casually against the wall and making sure not to look at Kathy directly when she turned to acknowledge him. “My friend Jordan used to have this job. He managed to stay a whole week before he couldn’t handle it anymore. He requested a post-transfer immediately, or he was going to quit right then and there.”

“Really?” Kathy said doubtfully, “And what was so bad that he wanted a post-transfer? Was the hallway haunted? He saw a ghost?” she chuckled mirthfully. “Sounds like he’s just being a wuss to me.”

Hal grinned as if he expected Kathy to say that. “No, no ghosts.” He agreed nonchalantly “‘The Ballad of the Spider’ is what drove him crazy. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“Of course I have.” Kathy scoffed in contempt. “The Ballad of the Spider: a twisted poem-thing constructed by Mr. Cuckoo in there,” she jerked her thumb behind her to gesture to the door “Designed to drive the agents and staff to madness blah, blah, blah, blah, and they’re all just what you said. Rumors. Lies and gossip. I bet our crazy Shakespeare in there is just lying on his cot drooling or staring at the ceiling or something equally stupid like that.”

Hal shrugged carelessly, “Honestly, I kind of hope there is a Ballad. I’d way rather be scared shitless than being bored out of my mind. I’ve been here only,” he glanced at his watch, hidden underneath his uniform sleeve; “30 minutes and I feel like _I’m_ going crazy.”

Kathy offered him a half-hearted chuckled but voiced her agreement. The night shifts were definitely the most boring ones - well, depending on where you were at in the institute. They fell into a dull silence again and remained that way for several more minutes. Kathy was leaning against the wall now and Hal had gone as far as to holstering his gun with his free arms now crossed loosely across his chest.

The minutes ticked on and the night seemed to drag relentlessly.

As Hal was coming up with a conversation to have with Kathy, to ask her to a club opening in a few days, he was interrupted by a small, near indistinct sound. He stood a little straighter and listened more intently, straining his ears to hear it again - if there was really even a noise at all.

_Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

Kathy noticed her partner’s tense position and leaned upright as well. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Hal shushed her and motioned for her to listen too. He heard it again.

_Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

_Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

It was soft and barely distinguishable. The two looked at each other curiously. “What is that?” Kathy whispered, coming in closer. Hal shrugged, he leaned forward and put his ear to the wall. The tapping was there alright; louder, but still soft - almost dainty. Hal pointed to the spot of their discretion, “It’s coming from here.” he whispered.

“ _Well, of course, it is, silly.”_ A voice whispered back. Hal jumped away from the wall with a gasp. That definitely didn’t come from Kathy. Said woman was looking at Hal in confusion. She hadn’t heard a thing.

“ _So, you’re my new babysitters._ ” The voice whispered again, in a wryly amused croon. _“I was wondering when the other two were gonna leave._ ” There was a soft, loving sigh. “ _And I liked Agent Jordon so much. He was fun. He liked listening to my Ballad too. He stayed a whole week just to hear it, you know._ ”

“Ballad?” Kathy whispered to Hal, obviously picking up on the tiny voice now.

“ _Why_ , _of course!_ ” the voice preened. “ _Isn’t that why you two came? You want to hear my Ballad too. You want to be, what was it? Ah – right, scared-shitless, remember_ ?” the voice giggled hysterically. “ _Did you tell the Pirate - Captain - the ‘Top Dog ‘ -  about it yet? I want to sing it to him. Him and his First Mate. Yes, sing it until their ears are bleeding and their heads are ringing.”_ Cackling followed. “ _I want him to hear it until he is_ **_begging_ ** _for it to stop.”_

Kathy and Hal exchanged uneasy looks.

“ _Oh don’t be nervous._ ” The voice cooed, causing them to jerk back in astonishment. “ _Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends. Soooo, I’ll sing the Ballad to you_ **_if_ ** _you do something for me too. Promise me? Do you promise_?”

The two guards didn’t say anything, but that didn’t matter for the voice continued on with a giggle, “ _Of course you do!_ _We're friends now! So listen up my friends, because I’ll sing it only once…or 10, we’ll see!_ ” giggling turned into deranged chuckles into hysterical, throaty laughs that got louder and louder, and crazier with every speedy breath.

“ _Just getting warmed up_ .” The voice guffawed breathlessly. _“I do so enjoy doing this over, and over, and over…and over…and over…_ ” the voice slacked off, but its excited and happy tone never faded. It seemed to whisper the line like it was chanting a beautiful, hypnotic mantra. Kathy and Hal backed up a distance from the wall, but not even the thick wall of concrete and steel between them could block the whispering.

The voice started in a low hum, gradually rising in volume, but the tune was still soft and serene – like a lullaby. After a moment of the appealingly captivating sound, the voice sang in a sweet, gentle murmur:

“ _There is a place - a place that I know,_

_A place where I like to go_

_Where walls are built_

_Made of brick and bone_

_Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

_Wrapped in white - my breaths, my sound_.

The sweet tune of the words erupted into a harsh snarl that was twisted with loathing and malice.

_Put there by a Pirate - a Captain._

_Not a_ **_friend_ ** _. But a foe._

The tone dropped again just as rapidly, quiet once more, but this time more hushed, like a little kid revealing a secret that he was eager to tell.

_Voices whisper_

_They sound silver-tongued in my head_

_“A freak of nature”_

_That what_ ** _they_** **_said_**

_A blood bath I’ve drawn_

_For you, my dear staff_

_I’ll chuckle, I’ll whisper_

_And then I’ll laugh:_

_‘I am no hero,_

_No hero I’ll be_

_And I will get out_

_Just you wait and see’_

The tone rose into an arrogant and condescending tone. Its smirk was practically felt through the thick walls separating the voice from its guards.

_Agile and fast_

_They call me ‘The Spider’_

_I’ll joke and laugh_

_And I’ll play with fire_

_The smoke is so pretty_

_And my venom is neat_

_I like to drink it_

_‘Cause it’s so sweet_

The melody mellowed out suddenly. It turned sad and empty, hollow even. When the voice continued, it seemed choked, wet and raw. Like it had spent its free time swallowing glass and then spitting it back up again. The tone smoothed over Hal and Kathy like glassy ice, making them want to shake from sudden cold.

_My withering webs_

_Decay, but won’t fade_

_So I cut them loose_

_With a rusty blade_

_My past is torn_

_I’m a  predator alone_

_My dear friends have gone_

_I’ve picked clean their bones_

The voice paused for a moment, and for a second Kathy thought she heard a sob. But a stab of something unpleasant shot through her system and her stomach curdled as a boisterous laugh erupted through the wall. The voice proclaimed loudly  with the glee and happiness of a sick child:

_My prey don’t see me coming_

_Now it’s time to hunt_

_Listen to me now_

_And I’ll say it blunt:_

_‘I am no hero,_

_No hero I’ll be_

_Are you not scared?_

The question was soft but layered with thickly with irony and malice. It made Hal wonder if he was missing some crucial bit of information.

 _Don’t worry; it’s_ **_only_ ** _me._

_Watch me approach_

_But please don’t flee_

_You see, sanity is gone_

_And they threw away the key_

_We’ll stay together in this dark corner_

_Just you and me_

_But you won’t - can’t - utter_

_A solace or plea_

_See, I love pain_

_And you’ll soon agree_

_Written in_ **_your_ ** _blood_

_This I decree_

The voice shouted, rising and volume and bellowed out with a wave of emotions bleeding together: hate, awe, horror, admiration, pain, and pure, unadulterated laughter.

**_This is MY Ballad_ **

**_The Ballad of ME!_ **

Giggles and shrieks of laughter followed, completely hysteric and deranged. The kind that felt like a knife peeling the skin, the kind only a psychopathic freak would use. It curdled Hals' stomach and froze Kathy’s blood. The two guards stepped as far away from the wall as possible, not stopping till their backs were against the opposite end. The laughter didn’t stop, sometimes it rose in volume and other times it dialed down into low chuckles. But. It. Never. STOPPED!

Hal grimaced, feeling suddenly sick. Kathy fared no better, her hand lay on her stomach and she was looking at the door in disgust. “I’m starting to see the truth in those rumors.” She muttered at Hal.

“No kidding,” Hal agreed, “I’m starting to see why Jordan wanted a different post. This lunatic is a whole new level of crazy!”

 _“Oh, but you’re not leaving so soon, friends.”_ The voice called, it sounded like an order. _“I fulfilled by end of our promise! I sang you my Ballad, and now you must do something for me.”_ The voice was quiet for a beat. Then it fiercely demanded, “ _Let. Me. Out!”_

Hal and Kathy shared a look. Silently they agreed that neither of them was letting that psycho out, they couldn’t even if they wanted too. Besides, this guy was looney – like, loonier than some of the other patients they’ve seen. They shook their head and didn’t say anything.

“ _Let me out!_ ” the voice – no, Spider – bellowed. “ _Let me out! LET.ME.OUT! We made a promised! A promise!!! You can’t break a promise; you can’t stab me in the back too!”_

The two guards remained silent, refusing to acknowledge Spider, refusing to egg him on. They quietly leaned against the far wall, hands clutching their weapons with renewed vigor.

“ _NO! NO YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!_ ” Spider shrieked desperately. “ _DON’T YOU SEE? I HAVE TO GET OUT! I HAVE TO SEE MY ROSE, I HAVE TO CLEANSE! THEY MUST FALL! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!”_  His puzzling pleas fell on deaf ears. There was a sudden bang against the wall and the guards jumped.

Then another and another, and another. Shrieks and yells and screams followed. They sounded gut-wrenching and hair-raising. Like death, itself was trapped behind thick, titanium reinforced doors. The guards contemplated calling the Head Guard, or even Spiders doctor.

But minutes after the tormented screams started, they abruptly ended, soon replaced with raw, broken sobs. There was a half-hearted thump and then more crying. _“I just want to go home_ .” He whispered. “ _My Rose needs me. The thorns grow sharper every day.”_ he wailed. “ _Thorns…thorns stained with blood and tears…please…I need…I need to cleanse the -heh…I nee-ha - hahah-hahahaha…hahahaAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!_ ” the sudden laughter mixed in with the sobs to produce a low gurgling sound that sounded strangled and broke.

“ _All will be okay. I’ll get out. My Rose won’t be left untrimmed. I will get out! Just wait and see! This is my Ballad. The Ballad of ME!_ ” shrieks of laughter, never ending, never stopping.

Breathless and heaving, Spider started singing:

_There is a place - a place that I know,_

_A place where I like to go_

_Where walls are built_

_Made of brick and bone_

_Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

_Wrapped in white - my breaths, my sound_.

_Put there by a Pirate - a Captain._

_Not a_ **_friend_ ** _. But a foe._

_Voices whisper_

_They sound silver-tongued in my head_

_“A freak of nature”_

_That what_ ** _they_** **_said_**

_A blood bath I’ve drawn_

_For you, my dear staff_

_I’ll chuckle, I’ll whisper_

_And then I’ll laugh:_

_‘I am no hero,_

_No hero I’ll be_

_And I will get out_

_Just you wait and see’_

_Agile and fast_

_They call me ‘The Spider’_

_I’ll joke and laugh_

_And I’ll play with fire_

_The smoke is so pretty_

_And my venom is neat_

_I like to drink it_

_‘Cause it’s so sweet_

_My withering webs_

_Decay, but won’t fade_

_So I cut them loose_

_With a rusty blade_

_My past is torn_

_I’m a  predator alone_

_My dear friends have gone_

_I’ve picked clean their bones_

_My prey don’t see me coming_

_Now it’s time to hunt_

_Listen to me now_

_And I’ll say it blunt:_

_‘I am no hero,_

_No hero I’ll be_

_Are you not scared?_

_Don’t worry; it’s_ **_only_ ** _me._

_Watch me approach_

_But please don’t flee_

_You see, sanity is gone_

_And they threw away the key_

_We’ll stay together in this dark corner_

_Just you and me_

_But you won’t - can’t - utter_

_A solace or plea_

_See, I love pain_

_And you’ll soon agree_

_Written in_ **_your_ ** _blood_

_This I decree_

**_This is MY Ballad_ **

**_The Ballad of ME!_ **

 

**(A/N: I have much more planned for this fic. Much more. So stay tuned! ;) )**


	2. A Hymn for a Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing colors to the world, so bleak that it turned upside down right side up. Displaying an unfathomable idea of peace, and hope, and justice, and avengence that it wiped the world of what was true and what was fake. Of what was strong and what was crumbling.

_"Roses are red_

_Blood is when bled_

_Spiders are blue_

_Tears are too_

_Poison is green_

_With no vaccine_

_Bruises are purple,_

_But they won't stop - how awful._

_Orange is the colors of a Gargoyles soul_

_What a bright and fiery hellhole_

_My hellish fire with hues of yellow_

_My, what a pretty rainbow..."_

I giggled as the last syllable dripped from my tongue. There. It was kind of rough, but I did it. A symphony for the sky, the sun, the rain - for a rainbow I'll never get to see.

_Yellow. What a **smart** color. What a hellish color._

How strange, rainbows were. Showing up to grace a gray world with its magnificent colors. Reds, and blues, and greens, and purples, and oranges, and yellows. A picture in the sky to display the variety of nature. A painting of beauty. A painting so bright and hard to ignore. How nice. How sweet. How beautiful. How brutal. How narcissistic. How _cruel._

_Blue. So **true.** Tears never lie._

Showing colors to the world, so bleak that it turned upside down right side up. Displaying an unfathomable idea of peace, and hope, and justice, and avengence that it wiped the world of what was true and what was fake. Of what was strong and what was crumbling.

_Orange. Only the **skilled** wore orange. Isn't that right, demon?_

A rainbow makes you think it'll be there for you. It will bathe you in light so bright, and give you a sense of love and care - only to disappear minutes later, promise or no promise. Cause, you see, a rainbow didn't really care. It was all a trap. A game.

_Green. I wish I were **strong** too...my poison is, though._

But two can play this game, Rainbow.

_Purple. When the blow **always hits**. Bruises. Bruises. Bruises._

I've studied the rules. I've memorized your moves. I'm prepared to fight.

_Red. So much red. **Feathers** dipped in blood._

The gameboard is set. It's only a matter of who is going first. Heh, are you scared? Frightened of what's to come? Oh, how _cute_. That's fine. I'll go first. All it takes is a roll of the dice, the first hum of a tune, and it'll all begin.

_Checkmate. Dead-end. Go back. Restart. Skip._

The door suddenly hisses open. Ugh, it's _her_. How long as it been? A few hours? A couple days? A week? Whatever the time, I bet she was just biting her nails in anticipation. Heehee, the anxiety in her eyes, the shake of her hands - she's nervous. Oh, but whatever could she nervous for? She was only dealing with a "psychopathic, insane hero gone rogue" - according to **them** anyway.

_Ace. Wild. Jack. Joker. Queen. King._

Hahaha, he wasn't psychopathic - just...enlightened...or maybe he really  _was_ insane...funny how sometimes he couldn't even tell. His thoughts were so jumbled these days, everything just started bleeding together. The rubber pads of the room seemed to mush together with the eyes, watching him. Thousands and thousands of demons eye that never blinked and never looked away. What a bunch of blood-sucking vermin.

Blood-sucking, _mind-wiped_ vermin. They didn't know what to believe anymore. Poor things...

_Hmmm...what game were we playing again? Skip-Bo? Uno? Phase 10?_

But that will all change soon enough. As soon as he got out he'd need to gather his intel, rally his resources, and strike them where it _really_ counted.

_Oh, right. Cat and Mouse. Good vs Evil. Right and Wrong. A tale as old as time, la-dee-da-dee-da..._

The lady sat down across from him. He knew her name, she always introduced herself as Ms. Blythe -as if she expected him to forget within the time space of how long she has been gone. " _Hello Spider, I'm Ms. Blythe. I am your friend. I'm going to help you. I can't help you unless you help me understand. Question. Question. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah."_ her song was the same every time.

_la-dee-da-dee-d~hmm....I wonder how Rose is doing?_

She didn't think I was watching. I let my eyes roam over the ceiling, peer over every stretch of rubber and into every dip in the padded cushions, only watching her through the corner of my peripheral vision. Ha, I didn't even need to watch to know what she'd do. Sit at the desk. Scoot the chair in. Open her briefcase. Taker out my file. Read through. Set it down. Look at me.

_My arms are numb._

So dull. So boring. Web swinging was always so much more fun. Brought a whole new meaning to "hanging on by a thread". But they took my webs, refrain my power, and stuff me away - but they couldn't take my mask. Heeheeheehee, I've held onto my secret side this long, why break a perfectly good record now.

_Stupid Pirate Captain. Stupid First Mate. Stupids Rainbows. Stupid eyes. Stupid demons. Stupid creatures._

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Idiotic._

But she seemed different today. Shaken, unnerved - was that sad anxiety? Hmm...odd...

"Hello, Spider, I'm Ms.-"

"Helen?" I answered quickly, a smile quirking. This was my favorite game. 

"Bl-"

"Kathy?"

"Bly-"

"Lily?"

"Blyt-"

"Arnold? It _has_ to be Arnold. Arnold is my final answer!"

"Spider, _please_ let me finish." Ms. Bleh snapped. Ooh, short fuse today. Maybe this session _would_ be more interesting than the last.

_I hate being numb. It's like if the cold temperature and medicine had a demonic baby. Numb. A four letter word to describe the feeling of feeling nothing, of your very body being forced to shut down against your will. I hate it. I hate it. I. HATE. IT._

I stared at the ceiling and waited for her to continue. It was only polite. I mean, I wouldn't be here much longer, so may as well humor her for a while. She did honestly think she was helping me. Poor, naive Ms. Blythe.

_But who was going to help her? Heeheeheehee._

"Look Spider," she murmured softly. She sounded tired. "I'm not beating around the bush. I'm not going to be around here much longer"

_Of course, she's not. I wasn't going to allow it anyway._

"It's obvious my methods aren't working, I can tell that much. But, you see..." her voice seemed to choke a little. I looked over at her just as one hand covered her quivering chin, something dropped from the corner of her eyes, it held the startling resemblance to a tear.

Was Ms. Bleh-Blythe crying? She was looking down, so I couldn't see her face clearly, but a sniffle and a soft sob answered my internal question.

"I don't think you're a bad person." she managed to whisper. I quirked an eyebrow.

Well, I didn't think I was a bad person either...

"You don't tell me much, but I can see it in you. You've experienced something tragic, but-but you _won't tell me_. And I'm not talking about the 'incident' either. It was something before that."

"Well Professor Trewlaney," I replied with a chuckle - why did I find this circumstance so funny? She almost sounded as if she actually cared. HA! Hilarious. "My tale of woe isn't for your ears. Ears, tears, or fears. No need to look in your teacup for answers either. Tea is disgusting. How can you drink it anyway?"

Ms. Blythe shook her head sadly. She looked disappointed.

_Good._

She was a good actor. Really good actor.

_I'd rather pry the truth from her myself, tear it out along with her throat._

"Heeheehee," How humorous.

She looked back up at me, "What's so funny?" she asked softly.

"Oh...nothing..." I smiled at her innocently, and she seemed to relax, just a little.

_Gullible. Naive. Fool._

Hmmm, I wonder what color she'd be. A smartass yellow? A strong green? An orange? Nah, probably something more like red. Just the one who was strung along, the one who wasn't supposed to join in, but did just for the hell of it. The one who might even regret doing so now, tis a shame you can't leave once it gets you.

_Ms. Blythe. Red. HA! Poor, poor Ms. Blythe. She'd look absolutely lovely in her own blood._

With a laugh, I rolled off the tiny mattress supplied in the room. They didn't give those comforts to most of the others prisoners - er, I mean, "patients" - but I was an "extra special case" with all the fancy schmancy delicacies. I rolled off and onto my knees. The straitjacket made getting up harder, but not impossible. It was super uncomfortable though. 

I crouched down on bended knees. It really was a comfortable position, one I've done countless times before, and rocked on the balls of my feets. The giggling wouldn't stop. But it was a _fun_ sensation like there was a bubble bursting in my chest and I just HAD to get it out. This - this was _hilarious_. Don't know why, but it was. So I didn't mind it. It was encouraged actually.

_I wonder how long it'd take to break the glass with her head._

The only thing holding me off from Dear Ms. Bleh was a thick nanotech fiber sheet of glass, made by one Tony Stark himself. How sweet of him, protecting me from this tyrannical lady. That is what it was for...right?

_I bet it would take me only a minute with our strength._

The eyes watched me. But I was used to it. Eyes were always watching. One eye, two eyes, red eyes, blue eyes, hahaha hahaha, green eyes, yellow eyes, and purple eyes too. _They never look away._ I couldn't stop smiling for them. They wanted a show. I started humming the remnants of an old lullaby from the past. It drew the demons into the room, their black beings dripped from the nooks and crannies, leaving a trail of ink behind them, they rolled down the walls like tears; the building itself wept from the pain and sorrow and insanity that it was being forced to hold.

Soon enough puddles of black painted the floor, rippling and trembling, waiting anxiously. I started the first verse:

_There is a place - a place that I know,_

_A place where I like to go_

_Where walls are built_

_Made of brick and bone_

_Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

_Wrapped in white - my_ breaths, my sound

The inky wells shuddered and began to disperse, stretching wider and wider. They moaned wailfully along. My demons understood. They've been there from the beginning.

I didn't get to make it to the second verse.

Ms. Blythe slammed her briefcase into the desk. "If you sing the hellforsaken song one more time!" she threatened, eyes suddenly ablaze with anger. They were bloodshot and pinkish, purple bags sagged underneath them like crescent moons.

_Rough, sleepless nights. Heeheehee. I bet I did that. She can't handle the Ballad. She can't handle it. She can't handle us._

"Don't you understand how serious this is!" she hissed through her teeth. "I want to help you, I really DO. But if I can't, they're going to replace me. Do you know who they're getting?!"

I stared at her, hissing back "I don't like being interrupted." Once the Ballad started, it wasn't supposed to stop. The words circulated around my head like a tornado, blowing every other thought away till it became all that mattered. She shouldn't interrupt. SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO INTERRUPT! 

But she didn't care. "They're bringing in another doctor, dammit!" she shouted, "And this one won't be kind. He will hurt you, and abuse you and warp you until he has every little bit of information from you. He'll make you into a real cold-blooded psychopath!"

"...I. Don't. Like. Being. Interrupted."

She shouted in frustration, throwing her hands in the air.

Why does she act like she cares so much? She doesn't care. This is just her job. Another faceless victim to brainwash. Why does it matter?

Muttering curses under her breath, she turned her back to me and ran her fingers through her hair. She took a deep breath, counted to 10, and looked back at me.

_And we're supposed to have issues._

_I really hate feeling numb._

"I can help you." she said, "If you would just tell me what happened, Peter, then I-"

Time stopped. I acted on instinct. I hurtled straight toward her. How dare she! HOW DARE SHE! Through the musty lenses of the mask, my vision turned red.

_She must die. Now she has to die!_

I slammed into the glass, and a web of fractures splintered the smooth surface. My shoulder popped loudly and began to burn, but that was a minor thought. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! DON'T YOU FUCKING CALL ME THAT!" I bellowed. "DON'T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!!!"

Ms. Blythe stumbled back, eyes wide with fright. Her nurses, two burly men in white cotton clothes, rushed to her side, pulling guns from the holsters strapped to their back. They weren't nurses, they were guards. Guards disguised as nurses. Or perhaps nurses disguised as guards...they'd die too. 

The nozzles aimed for my chest and my spider-sense tingled. Let them. Just let them. I was _**dying**_ to get out!

The metal cuffs around my chest hummed, I stiffened. Instantly, a sharp, burning sensation rolled through my body, my limbs jerked unintentionally as my nerves were shot. "AGHHH!" I cried, my knees buckled and I fell. The cell hissed and began to fill with a green vapor. Green, like poison.

Only, I wished it was poison.

I breathed in the sedative, my mind went fuzzy. The horrible familiar feeling of numbness infected my limbs.

_I HATE being numb. HATE IT!_

A whimper slithered out through my lips. Here it comes. Chilling darkness, the demons are coming out to play, fears, tears, and pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling and shaking. "Don't call me that," I whispered, threatening Ms. Blythe not to listen; to ignore me too. "Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that."

She stared at me. The mask lenses were worn and blurry, so I couldn't tell if she was crying. She'd be smart to save those tears for someone she cared about. For someone who cared about her.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that..."

The sedative ate away my consciousness. Not again. Why does it have to happen again...

"Don't call me that...Don't freaking call me that..." a weak, whimperish laugh pulled from my chest, like string to a kite. "The Ballad of the Spider, the ballad of me...hahahahaha...heeehee...hee...hee..."

_Time to play._

And just like that, the darkness swallowed me whole.

_____________________________________________________________

Ms. Blythe watched as Spider curled in on himself, whimpering as the sedative gas encased him. Her heart ached. He sniffled, a broken sob from him made her heart pang sorrowly. He didn't even seem to notice that he was crying.

She hadn't meant to call him... _that_. It just slipped out. That name had imprinted itself in her brain ever since she read his file. One of the worst files she's ever read. She learned pretty quickly that he hated being referred to it, in fact, it seemed more like a trigger word if she was being honest. Say it once, and he went into a blind rage. That was her first lesson the day she was assigned to him.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that..." he chanted in a fractured whisper. Guilt stabbed her like a knife, she never meant to make him feel more pain than he was in.

Ever since that first day of talking to him, she knew he was different. Not in a way that a mother see's in her child, this was deeper than that. He wasn't like the other patients in this forsaken building. For one, they were all older, never under 30. Yet, here was a 19-year-old man, not even really a man, but still a boy, here in a place like Ravencroft; the asylum for the criminally insane. This boy was hardly even a criminal.

And it wasn't even that. He was broken. Mentally yes, but even more so, emotionally. After all these months, she knew one thing for certain - his actions and attitudes were centered around his emotions. His ballad was a cruel, clear example of that. With ever verse, with every hum, it was a piece of whatever he went through to end up like this. She knew it but just couldn't link them together. There was still so much she didn't know.

He chanted his mantra until the gas took full effect. His voice faded and his body slumped. He was such a tiny boy for a 19-year-old. Ms. Blythe put her hand on the cracks in the glass. It was a state of the art material, and he had nearly shattered it with his shoulder in one hit.

"Ms. Blythe," her two assistants, that also doubled as her bodyguards, stood behind her. "Are you alright."

"Fine," she assured them. "Just fine."

She's always wanted to help those who needed it most, that was why she became a psychotherapist. But never in all the years of doing it did she want to help someone more than the boy curled up on the floor. And, never had she felt so utterly confused or helpless.

He didn't know it, but his frayed red and black webbed mask had permanent tear stains under his eyes. Ms. Blythe couldn't count the number of times he wakes up in the night in tears and screaming at the top of his lungs. She couldn't count the number of scars on his back alone whenever they needed to adjust or clean him. The only thing she, or anyone, could do to ease his pain in the asylum was to let him keep his mask. He wouldn't part with it.

Ms. Blythe would bet her very soul that if anyone tried to take it, he'd fight tooth and nail to keep it. And why not? With his past...well, of what she knew of his past anyway, then it was completely understandable.

Her bodyguards were still behind her. "How can a hero fall so far?" she quietly asked them.

The one on her right shrugged, "I guess some people aren't cut out for it." he said. "It ought to be a pretty tough life."

But she didn't think that was it. There seemed to be more to the puzzle. But she nodded, anyway, "Yeah...maybe your right."

"What are you going to do about Dr. Anderson?" the other asked.

Ms. Blythe shrugged, "What CAN I do?" she muttered, "As soon as Anderson gets his hands on him, then-" she shook her head. "All I can do for him now is send him a prayer and hope he's truly as strong as he seems, and I don't think even that will be enough to save him." her hands fell from the cracks on the glass.

"Come on, it's time to go." 


End file.
